


NEVER RETURN

by Il_Lupey



Series: Undertale [1]
Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Death, Experimental, Fire, Gen, Meta, Original Character Death(s), Tragedy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-23
Updated: 2020-09-23
Packaged: 2021-03-07 21:46:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,831
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26614684
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Il_Lupey/pseuds/Il_Lupey
Summary: The Player's frustrated. Handicapped and strapped for time, she's desperate to SPARE Toriel. But there's more to UNDERTALE than we all know and she's not facing her alone. A shame that she doesn't know that. A real shame that no-one else knows it, either.
Series: Undertale [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1936093





	NEVER RETURN

_You'll die. And you'll die. And you'll die._

_._

_Until you tire of trying._

_._

_What will you do then...?_

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**-NEVER RETURN-**

UNDERTALE

_Long ago…_

Air brushed aside a corner of the roller blinds. It hung, suspended.

An uncovered nostril continued in soft breathing, placid as a Summer eve. The blinds sank down to the wooden frame. Guttered and weak, the last breeze curved round a relaxed brow.

It tickled.

Sticky, unpeeled eyelids. Thick black lashes clung together, jaws of a drowsy, beautiful trap and bonded so faintly as to make separating them truly unappealing.

Unap- _peel_ -ing. Hah.

Twitched.

Warm. Cheeks flush against quilt cover. Cozy.

Tucked under-chin, he took the dust and faint sweat in a deeper breath. In. Stretched his toes. And out. Six walls and a dim, weighty sky just beyond the gloom. He'd have at least five more minutes. Didn't have to see it again just yet.

He kicked. Plastic on carpet, muzzy, hollow. Bottles. Water bottles. They ran down cushy objects, pillows, to scatter over carpet. Hot. Wrapped, caught round his shoulder, an itch brought on another kick. He reached. Needed the edge.

Where was it?

Chilled. The bare muscle of his calf scraped over grains.

Heat numbed in a dash of cold surprise.

And then-!

Searing! Fierce tingles blown in a gust, fine leg hairs shrivelled!

The stench of burning keratin flamed into tiny, livid sparks. Bright enough to dazzle his unstuck eyes, Ken swung his chin up. Head to the side. Gaped.

Blinking to silently ripping eyelids, a yawn blew into disbelieving hands-over-mouth. His shout shredded absolute darkness with terrifying sincerity. Blue and green spotted the nothing, sliding like schools of fish in a distracting, useless display.

It startled an inhuman yip from somewhere past his poor leg.

"Aaaaargghhh!" Ken replied.

Because now, heart kick-started to acid on his lips, he felt it.

Ken skittered on all fours, hands dirtied on freezing stone. He squeaked. Scrambled legs pulled on murderously tight skin. The last embers of burnt hair fizzled on blistered shins.

His eyes darted. Down, up, any which way, chest squishing in a fist of 'blind, can't see, fire', the beat of blindness pulsing white flares behind his eye sockets. Ken didn't have time.

The ember went out. All he could see was a hand.

Overhead. Moving.

Ken had to get up. He'd have to run.

A heave strained sleep-noodled arms and he shoved decisively up. Nose curled, the stench of his own cooked hairs curdled last night's burger and chips. His teeth grit back bile.

In a gentle sweep, that hand erupted into balls of fire. They danced, phalanges thick as thumbs.

Ken's brains rattled from a good, strong head shake.

The clawed glove splayed its fingers.

Kenneth's chest exploded in split-skinned agony.

Legs wide, toes planted on the uneven floor, Ken didn't fall. He wondered at the spinning.

Heat crackled over his collarbone. He patted at it, gazing at the walls. The swooping walls. Lit in short flashes around that magical hand. Stone grain cast in harsh relief around his own shoulder.

A breath shook over the hand just before his mouth. Ken eyed it. Something. Something... bad. This was bad. He didn't understand. His legs hurt.

Ken sat down.

His boxers puttered a whumpf against solid rock.

The jolt screamed reality back into the smouldering crater in his chest. The edges crinkled obscenely.

It hurt like nothing. Like he'd never known. It may have mattered - but, shakily pressed against hard bone where t-shirt and hairless skin should be, Ken realized it probably wouldn't matter. Not anymore.

Not ever.

"My child?"

Ken swallowed. Throat cracked. Despite probably dying he could make audible sounds.

Shaking and cold, terrified, furious, Ken bawled like a two-year-old.

The voice. The hands. Claws. Fire.

It came closer. Red phosphor flickered against a tightly shaven chin, short fur white and clean as Ken cracked away soot from his own fingers. Pointed lips moved to words he just didn't want to hear. Didn't care about.

He was dying. And that voice! It wasn't human! The fire, the glove, not human, not even -

His eyes bulged. Choking.

"No!"

The thing knelt. Lips split into a caprine nose over horribly moving jowls. "Not another one," it swore. It tried to cup his hands over his chest.

Ken tugged his hands away.

"You will live, you will live, I promise. I promise. Please," it said.

Wanted to spit. Felt the different, unnatural, wrong burn up his guts and frozen, struggling lungs.

It ignored the start away and laid a hand on his wound.

"I promise, my child," the red-eyed monster said, "I will not let you die. Stay. Stay determined."

And its eyes glimmered blood. Ken didn't know where the darkness went. He kind of desperately wished he couldn't see.

Tasted of ashes.

_…two races ruled…_

A stuttered breath gave three rapid clicks the gravitas they deserved. Frustrated. Confused.

Fascinated.

Bobbing her head to a familiar beat, off-hand rolling a worn figurine from palm to fingertips, the option to CONTINUE chimed beneath her cursor.

Laid in perfect pixel art, the two-dimensional house and ancient black tree blinked into non-existence behind her avatar. She walked up. North. Through the cheerful cottage door and down the stairs, eyes on late numbers glowing in LCD a few meters away. She didn't note the complete silence. Took a sip of her tea, playing hand paused to clench against a mild tremor.

Pressed down to continue.

She'd beat Toriel. Everyone said it was easy. Everyone said you shouldn't have to die against her. After all, the goat monster didn't want to kill you, right?

So she wouldn't tell anyone how many times she'd been here already. A tinge of bitter tea leaves made her grimace.

Not enough honey.

_…over Earth…_

It happened again.

She'd forgotten how many times this week. Last night. The night before. Probably the one before that, too.

Swirling a brush over her teeth pulled on shadows from round her eyes. She grinned at herself. Stuck out and waggled her tongue.

Spat. A deep breath let burning minty freshness coat the inside of her lungs. She held it. Let it go.

Smile. It's a beautiful day outside.

Thumb on toothbrush bristles, she ran it underwater again. Hummed a tune with deliberately forgotten lyrics. It's all about energy. Energy makes energy. Lets you forget how hard it can be sometimes. And she always had Him, didn't she?

Cessie was never alone.

Lips pressed in a quick prayer, she aimed toothbrush spray down the sink.

Hum. A long buzz. Electric.

Loud in the careful silence of early dawn. Nothing followed it; an absence of sound that sucked air from the room.

Cessie's head quirked to the doorway. A faintly yellow wall shifted behind her deepening silhouette.

Always interested in those small sounds of the day, counting apparatus nearby left just the dishwasher and washing machine as suspects. Bleached ceramic traced patterns of water and fresh toothpaste stains before her barely opened eyes.

Humm.

The pitch fluctuated. Huh.

_Thank you._

Cessie lifted her chin. The words stuttered on her spirit.

Black. Absolute darkness. Of a pit. A hole.

Of not-the-bathroom.

Thumb damp with spit and tap water, an offhanded probe at hip height stopped her heart.

The sink - where was the sink? A yawning sensation clutched Cessie's hands over her chest. Her nightgown. Thin as tissue paper, worn by happy years of comfort.

Utterly useless to stop keening from filling the black.

She looked left. Nothing there. Back.

The space between her ears subtracted with noiseless disparity. With a weak-kneed dizziness. A thigh muscle curled into painful knots, arms held out to keep standing against the vertigo.

Without seeing a thing, she knew not to try that again.

HUMMM.

She did it anyway.

Blind and tripping over bare toes, her staggered spin down caught a swirl of flaring New Years' Eve sparklers. Bright as magnesium, Cessie couldn't squeeze eyes shut fast enough to miss it.

Fire. FIRE!

She screamed.

Hallway. A tunnel. Cut into impossibly accurate walls, ceiling and floor, it stormed up like a runaway minecart. On-track to demolish anything, anyone in its path. Cast by the fire so swiftly, so fast she couldn't move, couldn't do anything, strung out her nightie with a fist and knew she was going to die -

Bounded up to her, the fire, the awful heat finding skin, arms, face -

Pain! Cessie screamed louder.

But she'd be fine.

She didn't fear death.

It hurt.

Fell back. Loose dirt beneath her hand. Back of her knuckles. Kept hurting.

Cessie smiled. Managed it. Curated it. She'd been brave, right?

_Warmth. Acknowledgement._

_…HUMANS and MONSTERS._

The exhausting buzz ticked behind hair and temples, through her wrists. She nibbled her tongue. Flexed fingers over warmed mouse keys.

Moved to CONTINUE. Again.

Almost had her this time. She was sure of it.

Tea rippled under a swift nasal breath. The bittersweet aroma sucked out her belly beneath the desk.

She had to do it. It had to be tonight.

Thermos balanced between chin and peeling wristrest, a somewhat more direct run - or gentle walk - passed from wizened black tree to a familiar tunnel system.

It should be easy.

"So why is it so tough? What am I doing..."

A spasm in her neck knocked the rim of her thermos.

"No-!"

_One day…_

"And I just wanna. You know."

Nails on steel tinked under the seat.

"I've gotta say. Um."

Her coquettish smile on that slight, pointed chin stirred the corners of his lips.

Confused. Complex. Even sitting with Ruby turned lunch into Math class since they'd both turned thirteen. She never giggled when he got started on something that needed said. It could be desperation. Could be looking somewhere it wasn't.

But a part of him really, deeply hated having to look up from frayed polyester to try and catch those glassy sea-green eyes.

He forced it out. Nose itched to the heat blazing across his cheekbones.

Ruby wasn't smiling. Maybe she knew. His first try might have tipped her off.

Or the second. And now, the third.

Gosh, he was such a loser.

"I can't... sit with you." Old struts creaked under their weight. "Anymore."

Ruby's upturned nose tip scrunched, like she'd seen a bug. "Huh? Whaddya mean?"

He felt like such a turd. A puffy, honest turd.

Yellow stalks collided clumsily by his sneaker. Cinnamon and something tasty, unnaturally sweetened. Mike hollowed his mouth to roll the dust over his tongue. Not her usual spray deodorant.

"Ruby..."

"Wh. Why?" Oh, no. His taut fingers played with the inside seam of his shorts. "Is this real? Are you really not gonna be friends with me?"

Mike hunched.

A pinch twisted the back of his hand.

Michael jerked it away. The skin dropped back where it belonged. Not to be dramatic, but the sting felt good. Felt like it should stick around.

"You're... you're cool," he said. Worked the muscles in his jaw. "I'm."

_I'm a guy._ Couldn't say it.

_You're a girl_. His eyes stung.

_We're too old for playing games. We can't hang out anymore. You're you, and I'm... I'm me._

Somehow, Mike let himself look up again.

Ruby.

He sneezed.

A dry pull on the back of his throat made a weird _hyurkk_ noise. The edges of an overcast playing field dimmed and drew out, polarised to twist, to turn, to meld like a tessellated photoshop image.

And winked out. Into darkness.

_"Hyurkk!"_

Blinding. Light. Heat.

Terror.

Cinnamon. His mouth dried up.

_…war broke out…_

Almost didn't matter.

How hard did she need to squint through oscillating flamethrowers to find a pattern? How hard did she have to try?

Yes. Toriel avoided trying for the final blow after a certain point. Once, through sheer beginner's luck, she'd seen it. When she'd reached that frame just before the flames died out and Ms. Monster began extending MERCY.

Let excitement flood and muddy her playing sense.

But she just. Kept. Losing it!

"No!"

Yowled into a gloved palm, she dug compressed fingers into her cheek. Hated it. Let the burn at the back of her eyeballs seep into the growing tick-tick ache crushing her skull to powder.

Bobbled the blazing red 'agony' signpost of a noggin on her stick-neck at mockingly nostalgic sepia walls and cottage décor.

Thrust a kid into another waiting battle screen and threw that beating heart into another messy CONTINUE.

The red SOUL throbbed.

Nose rubbed raw, cheeks and mouth slimed across a tingling forearm, she slammed the ends of her hands on the desk.

"If it takes me fifty, or a hundred."

Or when the sun rose. And she had to go.

Red pixels denoted another chance. One more go. The heart. The SOUL.

It trembled.

She walked past autumn leaves.

_…between the two races._

"Only slightly higher."

A giant. A horned, hairy giant. It caroused beneath heavy furs, eyes bulging through a black metal view guard.

Mouth pursed, the nasal voice bleated through strange decibels. Static seemed to move in strange shapes across the screen.

The knight continued. "So you get the two-level effect... path running down the middle."

Fellows crouched amongst the bushes agreed. "A path! A path!"

Sluggish by day. Exhausted at night. The magnetism of leather cushions on bare thighs held him fast to an ethereal televised glow. Literally stuck. Figuratively trapped in an old rerun of Dad's favourite movie.

A lick of warm air stirred over the forbidden forest of hair down his shins. Condensation dribbled over knuckles poking through creased flesh. Finger dints crackled to the bouncing beer can on his armrest.

He winced.

"Beats. Beats me," Ollie said. Rubbed the shell of his ear. Considered another sip.

His heart gave a grumpy thump. It started a belly groan from all the way down. He pressed down on his chest and palpated soft skin.

It concerned him. It should. He couldn't think about anything else.

Couldn't change the channel. Not now. The remote could be out of reach. He didn't want the disappointment.

But Dad loved King Arthur. Ollie's drawn face blinked in unison with the spotless actor.

"A herring?!"

Metallic pings strung together with stinging edges of tin in his fist. Crush.

Ollie gaped.

The can crumbled to the carpet.

Air rushed against his face, beard ruffled from its day-shift grease with the audible rip of skin unsticking from his chair. A strong gust of smoke flared Ollie's nostrils. The world pitched.

He choked.

Butt in the air, rolling helplessly to somersault against terrible popping from hips and spine, he blinked up. Stared into far-too-sudden darkness.

Smoke. Summer.

Get up. Check outside. Drought. Smoke meant...

Fire...

A gasp from an alien throat went silent for Ollie, lost in the humanity of his own airless screams.

_After a long battle…_

Not close! Not close at all!

Oh, the humanity.

Chewing to a savage grin, molten cocoa and hazelnut spray met grime-dated keys like vengeance and fire. Fire like the acid nibbling at her artery linings. Like the living hell of blinking through another X'd conversation.

Tragic brown goop spilled down one side of her chin. It tasted fine.

"Why."

She snarled into a waiting cloth.

"Aren't."

Index pounded down until the phalange creaked for mercy.

"You."

A tiny heart shattered. Torn pieces fell into the void.

"MOVING?!"

_…the humans…_

Chord, chord. Settle.

Tongue a soft beat without strings, strings, pinkie strummed on treated wood to keep the dry tone going.

Her wrist wavered. The shock of callus on string played the twang past shelf and abandoned cash register like the voice of an old friend.

Three chords. Discordant. Hold a structure. Familiar.

A widening smile tied it into nice pretzels of sound.

She shifted her guitar. Weight pressed into her thigh and a squeaky chair entered that same silence. Reset hand positions, set them again. She scratched the side of her head, a loose thought tickled through tangled hair.

Staccato taps continued beneath her chair. She tucked her feet up and off the floor.

Better to play now. Acantha watched the play of a silk-fine dangling spider. Her eyes sparkled. Better not to think about tomorrow.

She played. The guitar hummed in short, quick steps.

It rose from the end of its web. Ran up the string with efficient, perfect timing. Her tune followed its progress.

And what better way to spend her time than now, like this?

A rub of guitar neck against her cheek caught it before tears fell.

In the midst of a golden moment - gold as evening sunshine. Gold as wildflowers and sweet honey.

Acantha tried to smile.

Soft flowers. Golden flowers.

A delicate fragrance twisting round the strings...

_…were victorious._

"HAH!"

Didn't matter. Didn't matter! The past hour didn't matter!

So there!

So much so that when she took that chance - took that stupid, stern look off Toriel's face - she didn't quite feel the shock of another failed run.

She'd smooshed the old cow's pixels from her simpering body.

In fact.

This felt a lot better.

She took the toy knife.

She went back.

_They sealed..._

A pneumatic hiss.

Air scorched the secret places behind teeth and wires. She pressed her tongue against the roof of her mouth. Futile hope.

She flinched.

Thick gloved fingers prodded sore gums. The dentist's pink mask dipped in and out with his breathing. Clever brown eyes darted with sure movements of drill against tooth.

The gloves retreated.

Red lenses protected her eyes from blazing overhead lights. She blinked tear streaked eyes. It sucked. It _sucked_.

Saying anything now wouldn't stop this rollercoaster. Dex's cheek ticked against the jaw clamp.

A sting of icy cold started her aching mouth even wider.

She blinked.

Would have gaped even without the clamp. Dex would've given it the awe it deserved. Wonder swirled behind the goggles as she propped herself up to see it better.

And spat blood and terror to choke on a –

_…the monsters…_

It burned.

A wide grin ached across her face. Her cheeks bunched like apples. It felt great.

Oh, it felt like rubbing out a cigarette stub and hearing beetle wings crunch underfoot.

A sprinkle of itchy skin between her eyes went unscratched. She couldn't tear her eyes away from the screen.

Or. Or like... squashing a spider.

She rubbed the itch. Pressed her thumb into bone and closed her eyes.

Okay, that first one didn't make sense.

Yes. _This_ was Undertale.

_…underground…_

A light moan rumbled through spongey cake matter. Jack let his head fall back.

Neck muscles flexed under the deliciously beating sun. Crumbs spilled from frosting-crusted fingernails. Jack didn't bother to look. His nostrils flared.

Breathing in that rich candle-touched scent, he didn't see it -

_…with…_

Stinking white toad.

Gone and clean swept. A low chuckle should have lightened the room, drenched as it was in early hours of the morning.

Her breath hitched.

For a second, she could have sworn... her fingers tightened on hard plastic. Round and tapered. Both buttons clicked down in her grip. She held the computer mouse just off the desk.

Gone in a clean sweep of the blade. She cleared her throat. Coughing crisis averted.

Narrow white letters broiled her gut in pickled goo.

It filled her with purpose.

"Ring, ring. Murder's here."

_…a…_

A hiccup caught air with no time to scream.

Her knees struck first. Black trampoline canvas stretched beneath her itchy legs. Face taut with joy, Grace rocketed straight up.

Past a sandy-haired boy, grass and dirt smeared behind his scrunched-up face. Hair collected round her neck as the flight slowed. Her belly rolled. She reached up, grabbing sky and clouds with a whoop.

And the sun was gone, and Grace fell, a new shout on her lips.

_…ma-…_

But nothing would ever be that easy, not for her and not for the silent avatar awaiting a pointless death.

Because that shocked, horrified face meant another failure and why hadn't she just - continued? It might've been a fluke and the RUINs might be full of more EXP through that fresh RESET, but...

She'd cut Toriel down.

Why did she RESET? It escaped her. There must have been a reason.

Her forehead smoothed out its furrows. Killing had to be easier than waiting for it to give up peacefully.

The SOUL obeyed.

_…-gi-…_

Because he _knew_ -

Harold couldn't stop -

Firelight caught tears like molten rain - plastic swerved and took his arm in a vicious arc, bending under the light pressure - blade caught in purple fabric -

It didn't even pierce Toriel's tunic.

He sobbed -

"No!"

But he wasn't - he didn't -!

_…-c…_

Jolts spasmed down her cheek and neck. A fierce grin spoiled into an uncontrollable toothy smirk. One turn. One more turn!

_…sp-…_

Sweaty limbs twisted through sheets. Too warm. Too sweet. Bright and unnatural fields of blue grass disappeared in an inferno he saw for a split –

_…-el-…_

One. Please.

One more.

_…-l._

A body. A dead body.

And she was pretty sure she'd killed it.

But the thing staring up with big doe eyes wasn't totally dead. In fact, it could have been crouching down to her level. Holding up her chin with that big, soft paw and asking for her parents.

Except for inches gained by creeping taloned fingers.

Cloth scraped over stone. The shorthair cow-doe stared at Huyana's limp hand. Its eyes couldn't be wider for the sockets.

Her fingers clenched tightly around a handle.

It didn't manage to flee from her pink sandals even as it began to cry.

Never prone to tears herself, Huyana knelt. She reached to touch them.

"I'm sorry," she said. "Are you hurt?"

Grains scattered on her palm.

The world bloomed white.

_…_

Victory came like a burnt dinner.

It still tasted okay, she supposed. But a sense of wrongness, something out of place, prompted thorough lip smacking. Charcoal. Too many bitter failures.

The ends of her fingers tingled. Her left thumb rested on a desk it couldn't feel.

Ridged gloves met her forehead. She rubbed careful circles. Pressed them against her eyes and leaned back to the wheeze of her office chair.

Her nose twitched.

It didn't smell like charcoal. Strange to think about microwaves at a time like this. A glance at the clock numbers brought that smell to her rumbling stomach.

...Cake. Chocolate cake. It smelled sweet.

_…?_

_How did we get here? So many. So many of us._

_Lights, twinkling. Romantic. Guttered at the edge. Wavering in place. Without rising to look I knew the stars took our little disc of darkness in a swirling red miasma. A corkscrew over nothing. Held together._

_All of us. Red. It meant something._

_Not to me. You didn't hear it from me. But I heard it. I heard it from one of us._

_We didn't know. Couldn't ask. Don't ask me. Don't look._

_But we weren't safe. Here in the dark, getting darker, we couldn't sleep. Never rest. Stay alert. Stay safe. Stay together._

_I can whisper. It's too loud._

_…where is it…?_

_…_

_.._

_._

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**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading this experimental piece; despite never playing the game myself, I wanted to write something short and sweet in appreciation for the deeper themes and wall-breaks in Undertale's lore.
> 
> There will most likely be more to come. This stands as a one-shot to develop the 'world' and display the particular ideas introduced in NEVER RETURN. I can see at least one more one-shot to complete the Player's story.
> 
> Thanks again. Leave your thoughts in a comment, if so desired.


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